


i hate you all (ray and sara less. definitely ray less.)

by jemmasimmns (laurellance)



Series: mickray fics [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurellance/pseuds/jemmasimmns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boredom of captivity is entertained by people he constantly wants dead. Although it would help more if Ray Palmer actually stayed away instead of coming back day after day.</p><p>(Ray doesn't go away. Mick doesn't entirely disagree with his presence anymore.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i hate you all (ray and sara less. definitely ray less.)

They’re all going to die. Eventually, if not now. The Hunters would have killed the lot of them eventually. Or so Mick tells himself, when he’s trapped in the walkway containment box. 

He wants them dead. He invariably, across lifetimes, wants the seven of them dead, their dead corpses in front of him as he can finally extract his revenge upon them. Which is funny, because now he has no choice but to see them regularly and they’re alien from what he remembers. 

Then again, memory was a odd thing. Not quite as firm as what people had taught- easily distorted through the coloured lens of nostalgia, altered through the repeats in the mind as certain details are cemented while other unfavourable parts are wiped away. 

That he learns when the seven start visiting him. They’re not quite as he remembers them- Jax and Stein only visit once, and are so easily distracted that once he scares ‘em they never come back for a second visit. They’re closer than he remembers, much more comfortable with the presence of the other. They treat him warily, like a improperly trained bulldog only used to attack others. It’s pathetic, really.

Lance visits more often than them, and acknowledges his remarks impassively. Her hair is less blonde than he remembers, herself colder, more distant. Then again, she lets him talk, lets him scream his many frustrations at her. She doesn’t seem to be the type of person to kiss to tell, but he did never did know. It was highly unlikely she would ever, especially not with her two year stint with the League of Assassins. 

Kendra Saunders comes in once, and that’s it. She’s just as he remembers, only she seems to have picked up Palmer’s clothing. (Had they fucked? Most likely.)

The real challenge comes in the form of Ray Palmer. As far as he remembers, the kid was stupider and more enthusiastic. Not naive by any means, because if anything the kid was one of the most observant ones on the Waverider. Only he never acted on the knowledge he picked up, like Lance, savouring it instead to protect the others. What a idiot. And if anything, he muses as Palmer rambles about what new technology gizmo the ship has, he knew all too much about getting hurt. Not that he seemed to be aware of it, because the kid wore his heart and insecurities on his sleeve as clear as day but yet still managed to maintain the persona of innocence. Which was probably what stopped him from being teased too much he figures- the kid, despite being a functional 6 foot tall adult, had the never ending optimism and hope in people that only ever got him hurt as others abused it to no end. 

He likes to call Palmer a puppy. A six foot tall rich loaded puppy that he doesn’t quite hate as much as the others. Besides, if anything, he always visited regardless. Always had the optimism of a five year old who still believed in Santa, always stood the sharp jabs he threw at him. 

He’s starting to believe that Palmer does it deliberately. Does it on purpose, because he’s tried every verbal trick in the book, used every insult across the galaxies he’s come by, the millennium old insults he’d heard the time masters use- and yet, Palmer comes back every day and just _talks_. It’s not quite as annoying as he would expect now, because he’s grown- against all better judgement- a certain fondness for Palmer. 

It’s almost the same kind of fondness he had for Leo once. Almost, if the bastard hadn't left him who and what knows where, but yet still. 

He, against all better judgement, was starting to grow find of Ray Palmer. It hits him as Palmer rambles on about one of his favourite and most reoccurring topics- the 1960’s. That as Palmer describes again the apartment he had lived in for two years with Saunders (How many times had the two fucked? He’s willing to wager that the two of them had been too traditional to actually do it, to honourable to do it before getting hitched. Still.)

Palmer’s describing his desk when it finally hits him to why he’s actually listening to his useless babble. Because if it was Jax and Stein he would’ve yelled at ‘em to go away, Saunders never actually visited enough to make a impact, and he’s sure that Rip and Snart (A small part of him still finds it weird to call him that) are perfectly happy neglecting the fact that he’s on the Waverider.

But yet he listens to Palmer _babble_. Babble like a overgrown child with the ability to use the atom suit and have billions of dollars one snap of a finger away. He should usually hate these kind of bastards. So why does he listen to one talk? Constantly? 

He contemplates that he’s going mad. That he’s genuinely lost his mind, going bonkers. Because there’s no way in hell he’s growing attached to one of the seven people he wants dead. (He would rather die than admit to it.)

There was also the pressing matter of the Hunters, which all of them had no clue about. He’s perfectly happy not letting them know, but he’s now as good as dead to them since he had failed to kill them. 

So what was it? Tell them about the price on their collective heads, and lose his in the process, or just to let them all fade out of existence unknowing, still him included?

Either way, he wasn’t making it out alive. Might as well entertain the idea to Palmer, who would no doubt say to tell the rest of the stinking rotten bastards. (Palmer and Lance less stinky than the rest.) “Palmer, your advice is needed.” It’s said in a lazy, dismissive tone, but Palmer immediately shuts up and pays attention. Like he said- overenthusiastic little puppy. 

“If you were to die,” he pauses for dramatic effect and not so subtlety eyes Palmer all over multiple times, “Would you prefer to know the reason, or die in,” He pauses again for momentum, because Palmer laps it all up with levels of enthusiasm he never thought possible, “total, and complete ignorance?”

Palmer considers the question in absolute seriousness, and he’s sure that Palmer is driving himself mad thinking up his answer. It’s a simple question. How was he to know that Palmer would take so long to think it over? He’s underestimated the kid, for better or for worst. 

The kid’s answer is just as expected: “It would be better knowing, no matter how bad the truth gets.” Palmer’s visibly nervous, as if he’s waiting for his approval, his praise. (He’s almost given up on trying to get the kid to grow up. Optimism never helped anyone.)

He nods once, just to get the kid to stay shut. (and happy.) Palmer’s seemed to have taken the approval to heart, and seems to be _vibrating_ in happiness.

He needs a drink. No offense to Palmer, but he needs a drink. The kid, as loveably annoying and approval seeking as he was, wears him out easily. (Now, if only he could join the Ray fucking with Kenda. When they actually had the nerve to do it. Or without Kendra, he didn’t mind either way.) 

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiii. i actually like this fic for once, so please fave it? review it? *puppy dog eyes*
> 
> I'm on tumblr at daisysjemmas, so say hi there if you want


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